The Tintin Adventures Christmas Carol
by SkyDragon2996
Summary: Set in 1840s Brussels, Ian Scrooge is nothing but a tight-fisted miser who cares nothing about the joy of Christmas. However, all that is about to change when he is visited by three ghosts who will show him what the true meaning of Christmas is about. All Tintin characters belong to Herge. Additional fan characters belong to me, Sasa Tseng, RenaissanceElf, and a few others. Enjoy!
1. Act 1: Christmas a Humbug?

Act 1

 _My name is Young Gi Marley, and I am dead. No doubt about that. Of course, this should be pretty easy for you all to understand. Do I have to make you understand? Never mind. Nothing good ever comes out of this story. I should know. You see, my register was signed by many, the clergyman, clerk, undertaker, undertaker, chief mourner, you name it. And Ian-he signed it too. His name was good upon change, wherever he put his hand in._

 _I'm dead like a doornail._

 _Ian knew I was dead? Of course he did. Why not? I can't even recall how long it's been since then. Ian was my sole executor, administrator, ally, and the only man who ever mourned me…if he ever did mourn at all._

 _That scallywag never bothered to paint out the name on the sign. He just kept it that way. Yes, he did know I was dead. But that lad is such a tight fisted boy, he is. But what do I know? This here business, he still runs it. But a terrible miser, that lad is. If only he'd know what his own nature brought to him…well, I'll leave that to you for decidin'._

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A light snow fell in the quaint little Brussels village of 1840s Brussels. Now, people were especially excited this time of season. Why? Because Christmas would arrive the next day! Stores everywhere were busy as ever, lining their buildings with wreaths of holly and tinsel. All throughout the streets, children everywhere played in the snow, flinging snowballs and shuffling their feet around the snow.

From nearby, a paper boy going about his morning route, passed by a local bakery. He shouted, "It'll be a bright Christmas this year, eh?" The baker, who was busy unloading a fresh batch of rolls, told him, "Best save your excitement until tomorrow, lad! It's Christmas Eve!"

From nearby, two children were engaged in a snowball fight. The little girl threw a snowball at the boy, in the hopes that he would catch it. But her aim was so good, it sent the snowball flying. The boy tried to catch it, but he missed. Then, he and the little girl slowly backed away in fright, for a foot had caught the snowball and dismissively shook off the bits of snow.

Along the sidewalk, a solitary man in a dark-colored suit strolled through the snow-filled streets. Wearing a dismal grimace, he gave a scornful frown at a group of revelers, who slowly muttered carols in silence as he passed. This man's name was Ian. Ian Scrooge. A tight-fisted miser at his own right, he frowned upon anything particularly jolly or merry in this time of day. After walking through the streets for a few minutes, he arrived at the counting house, where a sign reading "Scrooge & Marley" was hanging overhead. Ian sniffed a little and went inside.

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Inside, a young man with a ginger quiff and second-hand clothing was diligently copying letters upon a high and weak desk. A small candle served as his only means of warmth. Tintin was Ian's right-hand assistant, and Marley's replacement after his passing. He had tried to survive living alone in the streets of Brussels, with only his dog Snowy, and his dignity. But his brother, Benton Cratchit, had offered Tintin to live with him and his family. So, he still kept his hopes up.

Tintin's fingers trembled with the cold as he held the quill. Rubbing his hands together, he tried to warm them with the little fire igniting from his candle. Then, Tintin remembered the coal box that was placed at the far end of the room. He proceeded to reach for the shovel. But Tintin then noticed Ian giving off a rare scowl, and he sadly turned back to copying the letters.

Suddenly, the door of the counting house opened, letting mere snowflakes burst in. Ian could not help but lift up his head a mere inch. Veerasak, one of his closest allies, strolled inside, wearing a rather cheerful expression. Tintin craned his neck to see what was going on.

"Merry Christmas, Ian!" Veerasak exclaimed. "What?" Ian muttered. "A merry Christmas, Ian!" Veerasak said yet again. "God save you!" "Bah," Ian said under his breath. "Humbug." "What? Christmas a humbug, Ian?" Veerasak questioned. "I'm pretty sure you don't mean that, do you?" "I did," Ian said. "I mean, merry Christmas! What gives you the right to be merry anyway? What reason? You're just about as poor enough."

"And what right do you have to be so morose and dismal?" Veerasak replied. "You're just about as rich enough." "Bah!" Ian spat. "Humbug." "Come now, don't act so cross," Veerasak said. "What else can I be?" Ian asked. "When I live in a world full of idiots like this? Out upon this merry Christmas? What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying these debts without any money; a time to find yourself a year older, but not yet richer; a time to balance books and have everything in them through a dozen months presented dead against you? If I'd have worked my own will, every clod who goes about with this so-called 'merry Christmas' on his tongue, should be boiled in his own puddin', and buried with a holly stake through the heart, he should!"

"Ian!" Veerasak pleaded. "Veer!" Ian returned scornfully. "You keep your Christmas in your way, and I'll keep it in mine!" "Keep it? You don't even know how to keep it," Veerasak told him. "Then I'll leave it alone!" Ian exclaimed. "I notice it's done a number good on you."

"Well," Veerasak started to say, "There are things from which I've done good, even if it never showed a profit, I say. Christmas among the rest. If anything belonging to Christmas is set apart from a holy source of its origins, I'm sure that I've thought of Christmas as a wonderful time, a rather kind and pleasant time; the only time of the year where men and women seem to open up those closed hearts of theirs and think of others as if they passed toward the grave. And therefore Ian, though it never put so much as a single coin in my pocket, I believe it's done me good, and it will keep doing me good for a long time; and I say God bless it!"

From a distance, Tintin began to clap wildly at Veerasak's speech, but he stopped after Ian shot him a dirty look. "I hear another word out of you, and you keep your Christmas by losing that situation!" Ian said. "But you are quite the speaker. And here I am wondering why you never went into law yourself."

"Don't be angered, my friend!" Veerasak said. "Please, come dine with us tomorrow!" "I'd rather see myself dead than do that," Ian said. "But why?" Veerasak asked him. "Why?" Ian asked. "Then let me ask you this: Why did you get married to Linda?" "I fell in love," Veerasak replied. "Fell in love, my right! As if that were the most ridiculous thing to know!" Ian retorted. "Good afternoon." "But you never came to see me at my wedding," Veerasak told him. "How is this such a reason for not coming?" "Good afternoon," Ian repeated. "I don't mean to ask a thing from you," Veerasak pressed on. "Can't we just be good friends?" "Good afternoon!" Ian shouted.

Veersak sighed deeply. "Okay, I seem to find you so resolute. You and I never quarreled. And I came all this way to give you a season's greetings, and I'll keep my Christmas humor last." He proceeded toward the door. "So, um, Merry Christmas!" he said before hurrying out. "Good afternoon!" Ian kept saying. "And a Happy New Year!" Veerasak said, poking his head back in. "Good afternoon!" Ian repeated.

Before Tintin returned to his desk, Veerasak poked his head inside once more and told him, "And a Merry Christmas to you too, !" "Oh!" Tintin said, a bit surprised. "Well, um, thank you, sir! And Merry Christmas to you too!" "And there's another clod, my clerk," Ian muttered. "With fifteen shillings a week, and a brother with a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'd retire to the halfwit house if I had to."

Suddenly, the bell above the door rang. Tintin got off his seat to open the door. In stepped two men, wearing identical suits and bowler hats with opposite mustaches, and approached Ian. "This is Scrooge and Marley's, I presume, eh Thomson?" the man said. "Precisely, Thompson," Thomson replied. "Can I help you two?" Ian asked. "May I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?"

"He's dead," Ian said. "To be exact, he died seven years ago, on this night." "Oh, terribly sorry to hear of this news," Thompson had said. "Anyway, at this festive time of the year, it is usually desirable that we should make a slight provision to the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly this time of the season." "Precisely," Thomson added. Thompson continued on, saying, "Many thousands are in need of common necessities; hundreds and thousands want common comforts, sir." Ian grumbled in reply.

"Are there no prisons, sir?" Ian asked. "No sir. There are plenty of prisons," Thompson replied. "And those workhouses for the poor?" Ian asked. "Are they still running?" "Yes, though I'd wish to say they were not, to be precise," Thomson had said. "And the Treadmill and Poor Law still in full swing?" Ian asked once more. "To be precise, they're still busy," Thomson had said. "Ah, well, I was worried that something had stopped them in their course," Ian said. "Good to hear that."

Thompson then said, "Given that they barely furnish any cheer to a multitude, some of us are trying to raise a fund to buy enough meat and drink for the poor, as well as warmth. Today is such a time for this, when want is felt, and all abundance rejoices." He then pulled out a notebook. "So, who should I put you for?"

"No one," Ian mumbled. "Ah, wish to be anonymous, eh?" Thompson asked. "I want to be alone," Ian answered grimly. "I don't make myself merry at Christmas, and I can't afford to make any idle folk merry either. I'm taxed, and they cost too much. Those who are all off have to go there." "But they can't go there," Thomson said. ""To be precise, they would all die." "Well, if they die, they can go ahead," Ian said. "To decrease the population. Besides, I know nothing of it."

"If only you'd know, lad," Thompson said. "I have my business here, and only my business," Ian said, guiding the Thompsons toward the door. "It occupies me constantly, and I'll leave it to that. Good afternoon!" The Thompsons then proceeded toward the door, barely missing the door and hitting themselves on the walls. Then, they proceeded out.

After Ian had returned to his desk, Tintin kept working until he noticed a group of carolers, accompanied by a small boy, gathering at the window. Soon, they began to sing a muffled "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen". Tintin began to smile; it felt good to hear such joyful carols. But his revelry was short-lived when Ian seized a ruler and whacked the window with such great force. "Go, get out of here! I didn't ask you to annoy me with that racket!" Ian shouted. The carolers, particularly frightened, then scurried off.

Ian turned to Tintin. "And I suppose you want the rest of tomorrow off for yourself, huh?" Ian questioned. "I-If it's not too much trouble, I'd hope," Tintin said. "Not too much trouble, my right," Ian muttered. "It's not fair to me. If I held back the crown for it, you'd think you'd be tortured, yes. And yet you don't think I'm ill used, when I pay these wages for no work!" "But it's only once a year, sir,"Tintin replied. "Huh! As if that were a poor man's excuse to rob a man's pocket clean every twenty-fifth of December," Ian told him. "Be that as it may, I suppose you do need it. But just be here early next morning!" "Oh yes. I will, sir. I promise," Tintin said.


	2. Act 2: A Visit from an Old Friend

Act 2

When Tintin exited the building, he wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck as he trudged through the snow-covered sidewalk. As he walked, Tintin spotted something that lit his eyes. It was little Matthew, accompanied by his father Benton, who held Snowy in his arms. "Tintin!" Matthew exclaimed as he hobbled toward Tintin with his crutch in hand. "Hello Matthew!" Tintin said, greeting him.

"We were waiting for you all day," Benton told Tintin. "Come on, let's go to Corn Hill," Tintin said. "We'll go see the children play. Someday Matthew, you'll get to play along with them." "I feel I'm getting stronger every day," Matthew said. "And you know what day is tomorrow?" Benton asked. "Christmas Day!" Matthew exclaimed. Snowy gave off a happy woof. "And I'm going to have the whole day off to celebrate with you guys," Tintin said. "Hooray for Christmas!" Benton and Matthew both exclaimed. Tintin then picked Matthew up and placed him on his shoulders as they, along with Benton, began singing a Christmas carol all the way home.

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Meanwhile, on the other side of town, wearing his coat and hat, Ian trudged through the streets toward his home. He kept walking toward the sidewalk until he reached a sad little tavern. He took his own dinner there, and after reading all the newspapers, he went home. Having walked a few miles from the town, Ian finally reached a large house. He lived in a few chambers that once belonged to his late partner. Though the building was old, no one else lived in it, but Ian did. The rest of the other rooms were being rented out as offices.

As Ian approached the door, he reached into his pocket for his key. But before he could unlock the door, the key fell from his hands. Muttering angrily to himself, Ian bent over to pick it up. And as he did, he noticed the knocker of the door. Somehow, the knocker looked like…Young' face?" it wasn't angry or ferocious, but as Ian took a closer look, the face suddenly opened its mouth in fright.

Ian jumped back in fear. As he picked himself up, he rubbed his eyes to clear his sight. But, to his surprise, the knocker was back to normal. "Hmmm…Bah!" Ian spat to himself. "Humbug. " Then, he shut the door without any other hesitation.

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Later that night, Ian had gone inside and marched up to his bedroom. After quietly dressing into his nightgown, he lit a small fire in the fireplace and sat on an old armchair, mumbling to himself as he stirred a bit of gruel. From outside the house, bells began to ring from far away. They rang slowly, which didn't surprise Ian at all. Suddenly, the bell ringing began to grow louder. Ian began to grow suspicious.

Soon enough, the sound of the bells began to ring even louder. Suddenly, they began to increase in speed. Ian was quite startled at the sound. The sounds of the bells then all began to ring even more faster and louder, almost in sync with one another. Then, just like that, the ringing had stopped. Ian sat in his chair, frozen in fear. Ian then sat back down and continued stirring gruel.

Suddenly, Ian began to hear the sound of heavy chains being dragged across the floor. Soon, the doorknob began to jiggle freely. Ian watched the doorknob, awaiting another spook. Suddenly, the doorknob had stopped wiggling. Ian stood back, too spooked to even know.

Suddenly, a voice cried out, "IAN!"

Ian then gave a cry of fright, dropping his bowl and spoon, spilling gruel all over the carpet.

"I-I-I-I-I-I-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-N-N-N-N-N!"

"Ah!" Ian cried out in fear as he saw large, pale-green, metal boxes in chains flung before him. "Humbug! Humbug, I say!" Ian started to shout. "Humbug! Still humbug! This isn't happening! I don't believe it!"

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Suddenly, a pale, ghostly figure bound in chains tethered to cash-boxes, had slowly floated inside of Ian's bedroom. He was horrible to look at; his clothes hung in tatters, and the chains he wore were secured by large padlocks. Ian was now frightened. "Wha—What do you want from me?!" he asked, too stunned to even speak.

The ghost was at attention. "Mu-u-u-u-u-u-u-c-c-c-h-h!" he replied with a ghostly whisper. "But who…who are you?" "Ask me who I was," the figure had replied. "Okay then…who were you then?" Ian asked. "In life…I was your partner. Young Gi Marley," the ghostly figure had replied. Frightened for a second, Ian then composed himself. "Hmmph! I don't even believe it," he said. "What proof do you have of my own reality, beyond your senses?" Young said. "I don't know," Ian said.

"Why do you doubt your senses?" Young asked. "Well," Ian answered, "because some little thing affects them. Some disorder from the stomach makes them cheat. You could be some undigested piece of meat, blotch of mustard, some bit of an undercooked potato. There's more of gravy than a bit of grave about you, or whoever you are. Ha!"

Suddenly, Young let out a high-pitched, horrifying scream. This scared Ian nearly right out of his mind as he flew out of his chair. "Mercy!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees. "Horrible apparition, why must you trouble me?" "You man of the worldly mind!" Young wailed. "Do you believe in me or not?" "I do!" Ian exclaimed. "But why did you approach me?!"

"You see, every man knows that his spirit should walk among his fellow kinfolk, and travel far and wide," Young said. "If he does not go forth in life, he is condemned to do so after death…and witness what it won't share, but could have, and turn to it! Oh, woe is me!" Young then began wailing frantically.

"You seem fettered," Ian told Young. "Why?" "I wear this chain I forged in life," Young began to say. "I built it link by link, yard by yard, and wore it on my own free will. Does the pattern seem strange to you? Wouldn't you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear? It was just as long and heavy as that seven Christmas Eves ago. You've labored on it since then! Such a ponderous chain, it was!?

Ian looked all around, but saw nothing. "Young, my friend," he said. "Speak comfortably to me." "I have nothing to give," Young told him. "I have limited time. I can't sleep, linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond the limit of our money-changing hole. Oh, not to know that any spirit working kindly in his little cube, could find his mortal life shortened for its usefulness. Not to know that any space of regret will make amends for a misused opportunity! Yet such was I! Oh, such was I!" "Oh Young," Ian said. "You have always been a good man of business, you were."

"Business?!" Young began to scream. "Humankind was my business! The common welfare was my own business! Charity, mercy, forebearance, and benevolence, oh, they were all my businesses! Dealings of my trade were nothing but a mere drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business! Oh, why did I ever walk through crowds of fellow humans with my eyes turned down, and never raised them to a blessed star which led the Wise Men to a humble home? Were there no more poor homes to where the light should have guided me?" He turned to Ian. "Hear me!" he exclaimed. "My time grows short!"

"I will, Young! Don't be hard on me, please!" Ian pleaded.

"I came here to warn you," Young told Ian, "that you still have a chance of escaping the same fate I have endured, a chance that I have come to provide you with." "You were such a good friend! Thank thee!" Ian said.

"You," Young said, "will be haunted by three spirits."

Ian was stunned. "I-Is that the chance you tell me?" "Yes," Young said in a soft whisper. "Oh, well," Ian stammered. "I—I think I'd rather not."

"Without their visits, you can't hope to shun the path I walked. Expect the first one tomorrow, when the bell strikes one," Young said. "Shouldn't they just come all at once and get it over with?" Ian asked.

"Expect the second one the next night, at the same hour," Young warned Ian. "The third one, upon the next night, when the last stroke of twelve ceases to vibrate. Look and see no more, and for your sake, take care of what you remembered has passed between us!" "Oh hum…"

Ian began to speak, but soon, the whole bedroom was filled with roaring shrieks and cries that shook the entire house. It sounded like a horror-filled case of moaning and suffering. Then, it stopped. Ian then sniffed a little and clambered onto his bed.


	3. Act 3: Confronting the Past

Act 3

All through that night, Ian lay awake in bed, lost in thought. He began to think about what Young had told him, about the three ghosts that would come to haunt him. Yet he still couldn't comprehend it in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more confused he was. He tried not to think about it, but it still kept coming back.

Young's spirit seemed to bother him. Every time Ian tried to ignore that horrifying feeling and dismiss it as all but a dream, the memory kept flying back to him. Though he tried to resolve within himself, it kept haunting him to learn from that encounter.

Suddenly, Ian sat up in his bed, rigid. He then surveyed the whole bedroom. From outside, a cathedral chime began ringing. "Oh no, this is it," Ian muttered. "A quarter past." Soon, another chime boomed. "Agh! Now it's half past!" Ian whispered with fright. Another chime began ringing loudly. "A quarter to it!" Ian exclaimed. After the next chime rang, all was still. Ian paused for a moment. "Ha! The hour itself!" Ian snorted. "And nothing else!"

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Satisfied with himself, Ian then crawled back into bed, relieved to have gotten rid of the awful feeling of suspension. He was about to sleep so profoundly that he didn't happen to notice a light figure forming near his bed. The figure began to twist and form into a humanlike figure.

"Ian!"

"Yipe!" Ian screamed, jumping back and nearly falling off his bed. Ian then peeped up from behind the bed covers and noticed a floating spirit. He looked like a young boy, with dark hair and a long white and gold-trimmed Chinese-style nightgown. His outfit seemed to glow with a bright light as he held a gleaming branch of holly.

"Huh," Ian said, quite spooked. "Are…Are you the spirit whose coming I was warned of?" "I am!" the ghost replied with a light and cheerful tone. "B-But who are you? What are you?" Ian demanded. "I'm Chang," the ghost replied. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Past?" Ian asked. "Of long, long past?" "No," Chang replied. "YOUR past."

Ian shut his eyes, for he was blinded by the glowing light emulating from Chang's holly branch. "But could you, uh…maybe, turn down that light you carry?" "You wish to extinguish the light I give you?" Chang asked, his voice raised to a chilling whisper. "Yours is the dark passions that would put out the light of truth!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Ian apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you! What I meant to say was…What brings you here?" "Your own welfare, of course!" Chang answered. "Oh," Ian said, rather confused. "Well, I can't think of anything more productive for my welfare than uninterrupted sleep, I guess."

"Why, your reformation, then!" Chang said. Taking Ian's hand, he exclaimed, "Come! Rise, and fly with me!"

Chang then soared up high in the air, with Ian practically screaming for his life. Then, the two soared all through the town, disappearing into a blinding, white light.

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After the bright lights and flashing had disappeared, Ian then slowly opened his eyes. He found himself in the same town, but for some reason, the town looked…different. That's when Ian had realized that Chang had transported him back in time to Brussels in the past!

"Oh my goodness!" Ian said, suddenly sounding very happy. "I…I know this place! I was raised here! I was a kid here!" "You remember it, Ian?" Chang asked. "I do," Ian whispered. He felt a tear come to his eye.

"Your lip," Chang told Ian. "It is trembling. And what is that upon your chin?" "Huh?" Ian said, peering down and wiping his face. "Oh, nothing. Just a little blemish, or something. Lead me where you must, Spirit." Chang smiled, and continued guiding Ian through the town. "You remember it well, Ian?" Chang asked. "Remember it? I could walk the whole town blindfolded!" Ian replied. "Strange. Seems as if you've forgotten it for so long," Chang whispered.

As Chang led Ian through the town square, Ian noticed a group of boys laughing and skipping merrily down the path. "Hey, I remember those kids!" Ian exclaimed. "That's Andrew! And Robert Morris!" He began waving at the children. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Hey, guys! It's me…!" Ian then noticed the two boys running straight through him, as if he were invisible. "Hooray for Christmas!" Andrew exclaimed. "Say hi to your sister for me, Robert!" "Don't eat all the figgy pudding, or you'll get sick! Ha ha!" Robert replied. The two then split up and took off in different directions.

"Wha—what happened? Why didn't they notice me?" Ian asked. "They are all but mere shadows of the things that have been," Chang answered. "They do not see us." Before Ian could say something, Chang took his hand and flew him toward a schoolhouse. Floating inside, Ian gasped in shock. Inside a dark classroom, a little boy was seated alone at his desk, reading a book softly to himself. But his face looked sad. Ian then realized that it was him when he was a four-year-old child.

"Look here, Ian," Chang said. "The school is not quite deserted. A lonely boy, neglected by his friends, is still here." "Aw, poor kid," Ian said, a tear coming to his eye. "M—My mother died when she gave birth to my sister. My father grew depressed and abandoned us soon after. I just wish I…Agh! It's too late!" "What is it?" Chang asked. "Well," Ian said, "it's just that…there was a kid singing a Christmas carol outside my window the other night. The least I could've done was just give him a little present, that's all."

Chang then took Ian's hand. "Follow me," he said. "Let us see another scene of your past." Soon, the two then flew toward another scene of Ian's past. There, Ian found himself a few years older, a teenager, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner. Suddenly, the door of his house opened, and a young girl entered…it was Ian's little sister.

"Brother! My dear brother!" the girl exclaimed, throwing her arms around a fifteen-year-old Ian. "Little Fan!" Ian said joyfully. "You've grown!" "I came to bring you home, brother!" Fan told Ian. "Home?" Ian asked. "Yes! Home, for good!" Fan replied. "Father is much kinder now than he was before. He was in a pleasant mood the other night, so I wasn't afraid to ask him if you could come home. And he said you should! So, he sent me to get you. Father has even arranged for you to start an apprenticeship, Ian. You're to become a man, and start your future career! You don't have to spend another day in that drab school! We'll be together all Christmas long and have a wonderful time!" "Wonderful!" Ian said. "I'll go get my things!"

Meanwhile, Ian and Chang watched in awe. "Your sister was a weak child," Chang said. "Yet she had a big heart." "So she did," Ian said tearfully. "You've got a point there, Spirit. I would never contradict that."

"Ian! Come out now! The carriage is waiting!" Fan cried out. "Are you sure that our father is ready for me to come home?" Ian asked, grabbing his suitcase. "Oh yes! I'm sure!" Fan replied. "But where am I going to be apprenticed?" Ian asked. "You'll be working with Mr. Wagner, a wonderful man!" Fan answered. "Now let's go before the carriage leaves!" The two then exited the building in joy.

Chang then turned to Ian. "Your sister, she died a young woman," he told Ian. "But I recall her having a child." "Of course. It was a boy," Ian said. "My friend…Veerasak." "Veerasak, the only friend you have," Chang reminded him.

"Come now, Ian," Chang said. "Let us see another Christmas."

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Soon enough, Chang and Ian flashed forward to another scene of Ian's past. This time, Ian saw himself as a young man, working at a desk inside a big, empty warehouse. Across from him was a young man with brunette hair, who was busy copying papers.

Chang turned to Ian. "Do you remember this place?" "Remember it?" Ian answered. "This was the place where I worked as an apprentice!" He pointed to a thinly-mustached man in a blue suit, working at a high desk. "Look! That's Mr. Wagner!" Ian exclaimed. "Oh, it really is him, alive again! And that's my assistant, Enzo Zuppino! We were such good friends!"

Ian then watched as Wagner then put down his quill and turned to face the two men. "Aha! Enzo, Ian!" he said cheerfully. "No more work tonight, my boys! It's Christmas Eve! Go! Clear away the tables and all this nonsense! We must make room! Life is short for all work and no play! I say we must throw a party!" "As you wish, sir!" Enzo answered. "Come, Ian!" "Okay!" Ian said.

Together, both Ian and Enzo picked up both sides of one long table and began lifting it away to another part of the room. And it was not long before a large throng of revelers began showing up at the warehouse. Soon enough, a fiddler came along, and before long, there was a large party going on. At that point, Mr. Wagner was seen dancing joyfully with his escort, Bianca Castafiore, along with several of her female companions.

Not too far from the celebration, Ian stood by, watching his friends have fun and enjoy themselves. It was then that he noticed a girl standing across from him. She looked so pretty; a dark-haired beauty with her hair parted from the left side of her head, and she wore a pretty dress of red. She wore a bright red peony on her hair, adorned with a green ribbon. Ian walked up to her slowly and said, "Hello." "Hello!" the girl said. "I'm Yan." "Name's Ian," Ian told her. He slowly extended his hand. "Do you want to…um, maybe…?" "I'd love to," Yan said as she eagerly took Ian's hand. Soon, they slowly began to dance together, happily in love.

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A while later, after everyone began to leave the party, Chang shook his head in contempt. "Such a little thing, to make these people feel such gratitude and joy," Chang said. "Little thing?" Ian asked. "Isn't it?" Chang asked. "After all, what did he do, this here Mr. Wagner? He spent a few pounds on this party. Does he not deserve such praise as this?"

"It's not that," Ian answered. "Mr. Wagner, he had the power to make anyone feel good or bad, or make our work feel pleasant or not. And he does by the way we look and address him. Every little thing adds up, until his happiness becomes great as the cost of such fortune, and…"

Suddenly, everything turned dark.

"What is it?" Chang asked. "Oh, nothing," Ian said. "I…I just wanted to be able to say a few words or two to my clerk somehow. That's just it." "Come now," Chang said, taking Ian's hand. "My time grows short. Quickly now!"

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Soon enough, Chang and Ian had flashed forward to another scene of Ian's past. This time, Ian saw himself a bit more older, much like himself now, but now he had some kind of restless motion of greed in his face.

It was a particularly clear, foggy, winter day in Brussels. Ian and Yan were seated at a bench near a counting house. Yan was dressed in a simple, gray dress and bonnet. She held a kerchief to her eye, and was silently weeping. "Oh Ian," she began to say, "I know it matters little to you. Another idol as replaced me, and if it makes you any happier than I could have tried, I wouldn't be crying."

"Oh?" Ian asked. "What idol has replaced you?" "A golden one," Yan whispered.

"Hmm!" Ian said with a bit of a huff. "Now that's a double standard for you! The whole world speaks so violently against poverty, yet it consumes the pursuit of wealth just as harshly!"

"You fear too much of the world, Ian," Yan told Ian. "All your hopes have mashed into one hope of eluding others' disdain. I see all your noble virtues fall apart, one by one, until the only thing left is the master-passion—the pursuit of profit. It is consuming you." "But what then?" Ian asked. "Even if I have grown smarter and more astute, I still wouldn't have changed my feelings about you."

"But Ian, our promise to each other was an old one," Yan told Ian. "We made the promise when we were young and poor, yet happy to remain until we improve our fortune together through hard work and patience. But you've changed. You aren't the same man that I remember." She paused for a little. "If this had never happened, would you hear me out and try to win me over now, a poor, dowerless girl with nothing to bring on to a happy union together?"

Ian then looked down, trying to think it over. But he could not answer that question.

Yan was heartbroken. "I knew it," she said tearfully. "You might be sad now, Ian, but I can't doubt that you'll forget about me soon, as if you've woken up from a nightmare." She stood up from the bench. "I hope you're happy with the live you've chosen!" Yan then walked away, sobbing.

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Now Ian was frightened. "Spirit, please! Don't show me this anymore!" he pleaded. "Just take me home! Why are you torturing me with this?" "We must see one more shadow," Chang said. "I don't want to see anymore!" Ian said.

But Chang then took Ian to another scene. Ian found two men conversing with each other. "Professor Calculus," the man said, "I happened to see an old friend of yours just this afternoon." "Oh? Who was it, Nestor?" Professor Calculus asked. "Guess," Nestor told him. "Oh, surely you don't mean that lad Ian Scrooge!" Professor Calculus said. "The same," Nestor told him. "I passed his office window. That partner of his, Young Gi Marley, lies upon the point of death. And there he sat, Ian, all alone. Alone in the world, I believe." "That miserable wretch!" Professor Calculus said as the two walked away.

Ian grew worried. "Please, Spirit!" he exclaimed. "Take me away from this place!" Chang shook his head. "As I said before, these are shadows of the things that have been," he reminded Ian. "You cannot blame me; remember, you were responsible for why these memories are what they are." "No! I can't take anymore!" Ian cried out. "Just get me out of here!"

Ian tried to erase those horrible memories, but as he spun around, he hit Chang on accident. Suddenly, Ian saw a blinding flash of white light. After blacking out for a few seconds, Ian found himself back in his bedroom. Still spooked by that memory, Ian crawled back into bed.


	4. Act 4: Look to the Present

Act 4

That night, after that amazing yet chilling encounter with the first spirit and confronting a forced vision of his own past, Ian finally managed to clamber onto his bed. He sat for a moment, as if to try and fall into merely a light sleep. As he rested his head on his pillow, his eyes remained open for a few minutes. After keeping a silent vigil, Ian finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Ian was about to enjoy a simple nap until he heard a noise, like a thump. Ian sat upright, rigid in his seat. He looked all around, hoping to expect another spirit. After noticing nothing for a few minutes, he was about to lie down again, until…

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"IAN! "YOOHOO! IAN SCROOGE!"

Ian suddenly heard a cheerful, almost enthusiastic voice from inside the other room. Pulling on his bed slippers, Ian stepped out of his bed and slowly walked toward the door. He noticed a golden beam of light emitting from underneath. Growing rather suspicious, Ian then opened the door.

Inside, Ian was astonished by the sight before him. He found himself inside a large room, the walls laden with gold and green branches of holly. The wall and floor linings were decked out with mistletoe. It was then that Ian noticed a young woman, with brunette pixie cut hair and a holly wreath crown adorned with candles. She wore a pretty green robe with flowing sleeves, and under it, strangely enough, a red showgirl's outfit. Seated above a throne of turkeys, sausages, lettuce, apples, pumpkins, corn, and a whole feast fit for a king, she wielded a bright gold torch full of star dust. It truly was a sight to behold.

"Aha!" the girl exclaimed joyfully. "Well, if it isn't Ian Scrooge! Come! Come in, and know me better!" Though he was a tad bit frightened at first, Ian slowly approached her and stared up at her. For a girl, she was awfully tall and elongated. "Um…who—who are you?" he asked.

"Ah, glad you asked!" the girl answered. "Hanna's the name! And I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present! Bet you haven't seen the likes of me before, eh? Ha ha!" "Um, no. No, I haven't," Ian said, blushing. "You've never walked forth with any of my elder sisters these past years?" Hanna asked, wagging a finger.

"No, I don't think I have to," Ian told her. "Ha—Have you had many sisters, Spirit?" "More than eighteen hundred, ha ha!" Hanna answered, giggling. "That must sound like a large family to provide for," Ian said.

"Come, Ian!" Hanna said, taking up one half of her robe. "Come! Take hold of my robe!" "Um…where are we going?" Ian asked, taking Hanna's robe hesitantly. "Just wait and we'll see, shall we?" Hanna said, taking Ian's hand.

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Amidst a sea of flashing blinding, lights, Hanna then transported Ian to Brussels in the present day. Now it was Christmas day. Everywhere Ian looked, people were buzzing in and out, happily singing and gathering decorations. Hanna and Ian hovered above the village as they watched. Hanna then took a handful of star dust from her torch and with a wave of her hand, sprinkled the dust everywhere as it touched the people that passed.

"Hmm, is there some kind of peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from that torch?" Ian asked. "Yes," Hanna said. "My own." "Does it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" Ian asked. "To any kindly being given," Hanna told him. "Even to a poor one the most." "Why the most to a poor one?" Ian asked. "Because they need it more," Hanna said.

Suddenly, Hanna transported Ian to a different section of town. Now, it was nighttime, and the two found themselves in front of the Cratchit home. "Spirit, tell me," Ian asked. "Why do you, of all the beings of every world above us, desire to cramp people's opportunities of innocent merriment?"

"Me?" Hanna asked, a bit shocked. "You seek to close these places the seventh day, and it's the same," Ian told her. "Me?" Hanna asked again. "Would you ever deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day, when the stores are closed, often the one day which they say to dine at all." "I seek?" Hanna repeated. "Forgive me if I'm wrong," Ian said. "It's been done in your name, or of your family." "There are those upon this land that claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, envy, will, hatred, bigotry, and selfishness in our name," Hanna said, "who are just as strange as us, and all our kin, as they didn't live! Remember that, and charge their doing on them, not us!"

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Soon, the two peered from outside the window to find Benton's wife Lucille tending to the stove as her little daughter Heidi was scribbling on the floor with a stick. "Now what has got your father and uncle then?" Lucille asked. "And your little brother Matthew? And Hensei wasn't this late last Christmas by half an hour!"

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a little girl entered. "Here I am, Mother!" the girl exclaimed, embracing Lucille. "Oh, Hensei! You're late!" Lucille said. "We had work to finish at the milliner's last night, and a great deal to clear away this morning!" Hensei answered. "Well, never mind that," Lucille said. "Go. Sit down and warm yourself, dear." Heidi smiled as Hensei sat down next to him. "Father will be home any minute. Hide, Hensei! Hide!"

Hensei had already hidden away as soon as Benton and Tintin came inside, holding Matthew and Snowy. "Hello, dear," Lucille said, giving Benton a kiss. "Hello, Tintin." Tintin then put Matthew down as he limped over to the fireplace. "Lucille, where's Hensei?" Tintin asked. "I'm afraid she won't be coming home for Christmas," Lucille answered. "She's not coming, dear?" Benton asked.

"Here I am!" Hensei exclaimed, popping up in front of Tintin. Tintin picked her up and kissed her on the cheek. Mezuki and Bellino came along as they said, "Matthew! Come hear the pudding singing in the copper!" As Matthew left to join them, the talk turned to Benton and Lucille. "Did Matthew behave himself in church today?" Lucille asked. "He did," Benton said. "Somehow, he gets thoughtful sitting by himself a lot, and thinks the strangest things," Tintin told Lucille. "He told us, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was crippled, and it could be pleasant for them to remember, on Christmas Day, who made the lame beggars walk and blind men see…But I know he's growing stronger every day!"

Lucille then left to tend to the fireplace. "Hensei, come help me with the goose," she said. "Wow, there's such a goose, Tintin!" Mezuki said. "Such as we've never had before!" Lucille then took out a platter containing a small goose, with the children following her.

"What a goose!" the children began to say. "Just smell that sage and onion!" Hensei said, savoring the delicious aroma. "Mother really outdid herself this year!" Matthew said. "And we got it for a good price, Tintin! It didn't cost a fortune!" Heidi said, admiring the goose. From outside, Hanna and Ian watched as Lucille placed the goose at the center of the table. Ian could only shake his head in disappointment. "What is that she cooked, a small pigeon?" Ian asked. "I'm sure they have more than enough of that to eat." "Hmm, I wonder," Hanna said, shrugging. "And what's boiling over there, in that cauldron?" Ian asked, pointing to a large cauldron inside the oven. "Oh, that's your laundry," Hanna said. Ian gave off a slight grimace.

As everyone had sat down to dinner, Tintin raised his glass, tapping it for everyone to listen. "A Merry Christmas to us all, my family. God bless us!" Everyone else then raised their glasses, all shouting, "God bless us!" Matthew then raised his glass last, saying, "God bless us, everyone!"

From outside, Ian watched as Lucille served a piece of the goose to Matthew first. "I had no idea Tintin had a crippled nephew," he said. "Hmm, I wonder," Hanna said smugly. "Tell me, Spirit," Ian said. "Is the kid going to live?" Hanna closed her eyes for a minute, then she opened them. "I see a vacant seat at that table," Hanna began to say, "and a crutch, without an owner, carefully maintained. If those shadows continue to be unaltered by the future, the child may die."

"No, that can't be true," Ian said. "Please, say you'll spare his life." "Well, if those shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other of my people shall find him here. Well, what are ya gonna do about it?" Hanna said. "If the child is likely to die, then let him die! To decrease the surplus population!" Ian was crushed. "You used my own words against me," he told Hanna.

"Yes! So, in the future, maybe you'd keep your mouth shut until you've discovered what the surplus population is, and where it's at," Hanna said. "Who are you to choose who lives and who dies? It'll be that in the sight of Heaven, you're more worthless and less fit to live in the millions like this poor man's kid!"

Inside the house, Tintin tapped his glass again with his fork. "And now, my family," he said, "I would like to dedicate a toast, I give you, to Mr. Ian Scrooge, the founder of our feast." "The founder of our feast, my right!" Lucille said with a huff. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast on, and hope he'd have a better appetite for it!" "Lucille, dear. The kids. Christmas day," Benton reminded his wife. "It should be Christmas day, when one would drink the health of such a stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Ian himself," Lucille said. "No one knows it better than Tintin, dear."

"Please, Lucille. Have a bit of charity," Tintin said. "Oh, okay then," Lucille said. "I'll drink to his health, for your sake and the day's sake, but not for him." She then raised her cup. "Long life to him! A very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! No doubt he'll be very merry indeed, and very happy!" "To Mr. Ian!" Tintin and Benton exclaimed. "To Mr. Ian!" Hensei said. "To Mr. Ian!" the other children shouted.

As they drank, Hanna gave off a rare smile. Taking some star dust from her gold torch, she then sprinkled it on to the family. Soon, the family was very happy. "I think it's time we sing a song," Tintin said, brightening up. "A Christmas carol!" Matthew said. "Okay. Which song?" Lucille asked. Soon, the whole family was singing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" in full sync.

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"Come on, Ian!" Hanna said, taking Ian's hand. "It's time we see another Christmas!" "Really?" Ian asked. "Where…?"

But before Ian could say anything, Hanna had immediately whisked him away to another part of town. This time, they found themselves hovering above a large country home. Soon, Hanna and Ian floated inside the house. There, they found Veerasak with his wife Linda, and their friends Heather and Lawrence Jacobson, along with some of their closest friends and neighbors. They were all talking and laughing with each other over a few glasses of champagne.

"And wouldn't you believe it?" Veerasak asked his friends. "He called Christmas a humbug. And he believed it, too!" The others laughed. "Well, that is more shame for him," Linda said, peering into her glass. "He really is a funny fellow, that lad," Veerasak said, "but not as comically pleasant as he could be. However, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I don't have anything against it."

"I'm sure he's very rich, Veer," Lawrence told him. "At least that's what you've always told me." "But his wealth's no use to him," Veerasak said. "He doesn't do no good to it. He doesn't make himself comfy with it." "Well, I can sincerely doubt he'd ever consider benefiting with any of us," Heather said. The others began to laugh.

"Well, we have no pity for him," Linda said. "Oh, but I have!" Veerasak said. "Who suffers by his ill whims? Him, as always. He takes it into his mind to dislike us, and he wouldn't come to dine with us. What's the trouble? He loses some pleasant moments. I meant to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not. I may have cracked the old boy yesterday, if I say so myself." The others then began to laugh.

"He's given us plenty of merriment, I'm sure, and it'd be ungrateful not to drink to his health," Veerasak said, raising his glass. "So…here's to Ian!" "To Ian!" the others exclaimed, all raising their glasses. They all laughed as they drank.

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From outside, above a clock tower, Ian was shaking his head in utter disbelief. "Normally, I'd be offended by such tasteless banter and laughter at my own expense," he said. "However, in the light of the general gaiety of that occasion, I feel compelled to overlook it." "How noble of you to say that!" Hanna said with glee.

Ian then peered down to notice something moving, like a foot, under Hanna's robe. "Um, Hanna?" Ian asked. "Forgive me for asking, but I see something strange poking out of your robe. Is it some kind of foot or claw?" "It could be a claw," Hanna muttered, "from all the flesh caked under it. Look!"

Before Ian could catch a glimpse, Hanna then drew aside both flaps of her robe in a flash. Ian then peeped at Hanna's legs and gave out a frightful cry. Grasping Hanna's legs were two scowling children, a boy and a girl, wearing ragged, dirty, patched up clothes. They were horrible to look at; they looked like two ratty, gnarled up wooden dolls. Growling and hissing at Ian, they swatted their hands at Ian, who slowly backed away in fright.

"Spirit, a—are these kids yours?" Ian asked anxiously. Hanna's face suddenly grew dark. "They're yours!" she said, with some joy mixed with a bit of twisted insanity. "Don't you know them?" She turned to the children. "This here boy is Ignorance," she said, gesturing to the hissing boy. Waving her hand to the girl, she said, "And this girl is Want. Beware of these two, and their kind, but watch out for the boy. On his brow, I see the word DOOM written all over it, unless it is erased. Dare ya to deny it! I dare you to slander those who claim otherwise, and see where that leads!" By then, Hanna was laughing like a crazed psychopath.

"But Spirit!" Ian said. "Don't they have a refuge or some other resource?" "Well," Hanna asked, smiling crazily. "Do they have any prisons? Are there no workhouses?!"

Suddenly, the clock's bell had struck twelve. Right in the middle of her laughter, Hanna suddenly grabbed her chest, crying out in pain and gasping for breath. But she still continued laughing. Suddenly, Ian felt a cold hand clasp his shoulder. "Ha ha!" the boy, Ignorance, began waving two knives around with his hands. "Why don't I try to throw some gammy knife and see if I don't hit you?!" he shouted, flinging the knives at Ian's feet, barely missing him before disappearing. As Ian backed up, he felt two hands grasping him. Turning around, Ian screamed. "Well, well, well! Let's see what the catfish has dragged in this time!" the girl, Want, said. She began laughing crazily, but her laughter turned to hideous shrieking as she struggled inside a straitjacket. Then, as she disappeared too, her screams died down.

Amidst the loud, booming bell chimes, Ian slowly crept up to Hanna, who was lying on her back, her smile still frozen in her face. "Sp—Spirit?" Ian asked gently. Clinging to her last breath, Hanna began to laugh. As her laughter continued, wind blew from every direction. She then began to dissolve into a giggling corpse. As the wind blew stronger, she had dissolved into nothing but star dust, her laughs still echoing from the distance.


	5. Act 5: A Frightening Future

Act 5

Amidst the total darkness that was slowly creeping up on him, Ian stood inside the clockworks of the clock tower, all alone. Visibly shaken by that horrifying scene that unfurled before him, Ian paced around, wondering if something else was going to turn up to spook him. Still, he found it hard to think among the booming sounds of the bell chimes ringing.

Suddenly, Ian felt a tall shadow looming over him. Afraid to look, Ian decided to turn around and see what it was. There, Ian found himself staring at a tall, dark figure towering over him. Ian couldn't make out his face, for it was concealed under his hood.

"Okay," Ian stuttered. "I'd guess that right now, I'm at the presence of the Ghost of Christmas…Y-Yet to Come?" The figure slowly nodded his head yes. "Then I'd guess that…that you will show me the shadows of the things that have not yet occurred, but will happen in the time before us. I-Is that true?" Ian asked. The spirit nodded yes again. "Um…can't you speak?" Ian asked. Then, he extended his hand. "Well, the night is ending soon, and we have such little time to spare. Lead me where you must, Spirit!"

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Soon, the ghost took Ian's hand, and guided him out of the clock tower. Suddenly, Ian found himself at a desolate building. Ian then spotted two men with shovels, waiting outside the building. "Hey! I know those two!" Ian exclaimed. "They're from the stock exchange! Here! This always felt like a second home to me."

"Well Chester, I don't know anything about it, either way," one man said. "All I know is that he's dead." "When did he die, Morris?" Chester asked. "Last night, I believe," Morris told him. "Well, what was the matter with him? Thought he'd never die," Chester said. "God knows what." "What has he done with the money?" Morris asked. "Haven't heard," Chester muttered. "Left it with his company, I believe. I know he hasn't left it to me."

"Well, I guess it'll be a cheap funeral, then," Morris had told Chester. "Don't know anyone who would attend it. Should we make a party and volunteer?" "Don't mind goin' if there's lunch involved," Chester said. "I have to be fed, for all trouble's sake." "Well, it doesn't matter very little to me. Never wore black gloves, never ate any lunch. But I'll go, if anyone else is willing to attend," Morris said, grabbing his shovel and bag. "Well, I must be off now. Goodbye!" "Goodbye!" Chester said as the two men parted ways.

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Ian could only shake his head in disbelief. "Don't these people have any decency?" he asked. "Spirit, what are you showing me? What is this? What am I seeing?"

Without answering, the spirit then turned Ian to a different direction. There, Ian spotted an old man sitting in a rocking chair. Soon enough, two women approached him, followed by a sleuth. "Ah, yes. Come in. we couldn't have asked to meet in a much better place than this," the old man said. "Please, do come in!"

"Well, what is the business now?" the woman asked. "What are the odds? Every person is entitled to take care of himself. He always did!" the older woman had said. "Then, what's the worth of losing a few things like these?" the young woman had asked. "Not dead man, I'd say, Mildred?" The woman, Mildred, then took a moment to see what was in the mountainous stash the old man had brought with him.

"What a haul, Mortimer!" Mildred exclaimed, eyeing the stash before her. "All right, now let's get this business sorted out, shall we?" Mortimer said, digging around in the stash. He then brought his hands up to reveal the items. "Okay, what have we got here? A pencil case, yes…A few button sleeves here too…That I'll give Mrs. Oliver here half a sixpence for these." "Well, this is quite the lot here," Mrs. Oliver told him.

"What's next? What have we got here?" Mildred asked as she pulled out heavy drapery. "Ah, bed curtains!" she exclaimed. "And how much will this be?" "I'd say three pounds even!" Mortimer said, naming the price for the curtains. "You were certain he wouldn't have caught cold without any of these, eh?" "Hope he didn't dying of any catching, I hope," Mrs. Oliver said. "Wouldn't have loitered around if he did!" Mildred told the others.

Mrs. Oliver then pulled out a silk shirt for the two to admire it. "You two can gaze upon this till you both get headaches, but there's no hole neither tear in it," she said. "A fine one, indeed. Wouldn't have wasted it, if it weren't for me." "What do you call wasting it?" Mildred asked. "Why, putting it on for him to be buried in!" Mrs. Oliver said. The two women began to laugh momentarily for a short period of time. Then, the old man began to count up his earnings for a summary.

"So, this now adds up to…I say, four pounds. Six shillings. Twopence…and not a penny more if I were boiled in it!" Mortimer concluded. "Well, he scared everyone away from him when he lived," Mildred said. "Yet he profited us when he is dead!" Mrs. Oliver said. The three began to laugh harmoniously.

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"Spirit," Ian said after watching the scene unfold before him, "this place is frightening. Surely, there was no reason to bring me to this God-forsaken place, except the case of this unhappy man could be my own. I see the items stolen there looked like my stuff. But surely there must be someone who feels some emotion caused by that guy's death! Show me this person, please!"

And just like that, the spirit then took Ian and flashed him forward to another scene. There, he found a woman pacing back and forth nervously in her house. Sitting at a dinner table was her husband, who looked a bit somber.

"What have you heard, Thomas? Is it good news or bad news?" the woman asked. "It's bad news, I'm afraid, Daphne," Thomas told her. "Are we ruined for good, Thomas?" Daphne asked. "Has he denied you the extra time you wanted? Are we being forced into eviction?" "No, there is still hope," Thomas said. "Only if he repents, that miser. Nothing is past hope if a miracle happened," Daphne told Thomas.

"He's dead. He was past repenting now," Thomas said. "Dead?" Daphne asked, shocked. "Oh, heaven be praised! Lord, forgive me!" "Thought he tried to avoid me. But what I had been told is true. Not only was he sick, but he was dying," Thomas told her. "To whom will we transfer our debt, then?" Daphne asked. "We won't know for sure," Thomas said. "But before that time, we'll be ready with the money. It'd be bad fortune if we found a creditor twice as merciless as he was. We may sleep with our lights on, Daphne!" He then embraced his wife for a moment.

Ian was getting restless. "Spirit, I told you to show me any emotion connected with this guy's death!" he told the ghost. "I demand to see tenderness connected with a death!"

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It was then that at that moment that the ghost eventually seized Ian's hand and took him to another scene in the near future. This time, Ian found himself back at the Cratchit home, but somehow it looked…different. The house seemed awfully quiet. Inside, Ian found Lucille and her daughters sewing, while Bellino was reading something out of a Bible in his hands.

"…and he took a child, and set him in the midst of them. And he said to them, 'Whenever you welcome a little child, you welcome me,'" Bellino read. Lucille, who was moved by those words, then set down her needlework. "This color hurts my eyes…There, much better," she said. "The candlelight makes them weak, I would never show weak eyes to your father and uncle when they get home. Not for the world. Must be near his time. "Past it, rather," Bellino said. "But I think he's walked a bit slower than usual, those last few evenings, Mother." "Yes. I've known to walk with him," Lucille said quietly. "I've known him to walk with little Matthew on his shoulder, very fast indeed." "So did I," Heidi said. "So did I," Hensei said. "So did we," Mezuki and Bellino both said.

"But he was pretty light to carry," Lucille said. "And his father loved him, but it was no trouble at all. No trouble at all." Suddenly, the door opened, and Benton and Tintin entered inside as the children greeted them. "We went past there, that's why we're late," Benton told Lucille. "Wished you could've been there. It would've done you good to see how green it was." "But you will see it more often," Tintin said. "I promised him I'd walk there every Sunday to visit him, you know." He then stooped down to hug Heidi and Hensei.

"And would you guess who I saw today?" Tintin asked. "I saw Veerasak, Ian's good friend. I met him on the saw I was looking a little down; he was quite a well-natured speaker if you've heard. I didn't hesitate to tell him. And this is what he said: 'I am truly sorry, Mr. Tintin, truly sorry.' And he asked if he could be of any service to us. He even gave me his card, and said I should call him when I get the chance. But it's not for the sake of anything he'd do to help us, so much as I am thankful for. It really seemed as if he did know Matthew, and felt with us."

Benton then turned to Bellino. "And by the way, I have good news for you, Bellino," he told him. "What is it, Father?" Bellino asked. "Veerasak said he was able to get you an apprenticeship. You'll start at eight shillings a week, starting next Tuesday!" "Eight shillings a week?" Bellino asked, surprised. "And soon, you'll be keeping company with a young lady and setting up house for yourself!" Hensei told Bellino as they began to laugh teasingly at each other.

"That will happen soon enough," Tintin said. "But however and whenever we'll be drifting apart from each other, I'd be sure that none of us will ever forget Matthew, won't we?" "No! Never, Tintin!" Hensei said. "And I know, as well, children, that we remember how patient and delicate he was…though he was a small child," Lucille said, "and we won't fight among ourselves, and forget our little Matthew in doing so, right? "No…we won't, Mother!" the children exclaimed. "We'll never forget!" Thank you, children," Tintin said. "Come, brother," Benton said. "Excuse us for a minute." Then, Benton and Tintin then climbed up the stairs.

Soon, Ian finally had it all figured out. "Tintin," he muttered under his breath. Soon, he found himself staring at Tintin as he and Benton entered a small bedroom upstairs. Ian was beginning to well up with tears as he saw Tintin approach a bed. Lying upon it was little Matthew, who laid dead. Tintin then kneeled down and slowly kissed Matthew's forehead. Then, unable to control himself, Tintin buried his face in the bedspread, crying in broken gasps and sobs. Tearing up, Benton kneeled down next to Tintin, trying to comfort him.

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Ian was grief stricken. "Spirit," he said, "something tells me that our time together is growing short. I know it but I don't know how. Please, tell me, the man who was spoken of, the one who died, tell me who he is!"

The ghost then waved his hand, and the house then disappeared within a tornado-like mass of wind and snow. Soon, Ian and the ghost found themselves at a desolate graveyard in the midst of a foggy day. Ian slowly walked through the cemetery as gnarled up trees swayed in the breeze. The spirit then pointed to an unattended gravestone, overrun by snow and weeds.

"Spirit," Ian said, eyeing the gravestone that sat before him," before I get closer to that stone you are pointing at, answer me this. Are these still the shadows of things that have not yet been, or of the things that may occur? The course of a man's life, if preserved, would determine certain ends; I'll accept it. But if he leaves, the ends must be changed. Say it is so until you show me what it is!"

The spirit then lit a match and pointed it toward the gravestone, revealing the inscription: _Ian Y. Scrooge. B: October 10_ _th_ _, 1822 D: December 25, 1847_. The spirit then lifted his hood to reveal his face: it was Captain Haddock, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. "Why yours, Ian," Haddock told Ian as he lit his pipe. "What?! No! That can't be true!" Ian exclaimed. "I'm the man whom no one mourned?! "That's impossible!"

"Yes, it is!" Haddock said, drawing a pirate's sword from within his robe. "The richest man in the cemetery!" "No! Spirit, hear me out, please!" Ian pleaded. "This can't happen to me! Not me! "I can change, please! Just give me another chance!" But Haddock would not listen. Instead, he raised the sword high in the air. Then, he brought it down, slashing the earth from underneath Ian's feet.

Suddenly, the earth and dirt began to crumble as the ground shook. "No, Spirit!" Ian said as he lost his footing and fell in the hole, catching a nearby root. "Spirit! Please, help me!" Instead, Haddock was cackling with evil laughter as Ian clung for dear life.

Ian then peered down at the coffin, which then opened to reveal a swirl of fire and smoke from the fiery depths of the underworld. Suddenly, a swirl of wind had formed…and proceeded to suck Ian into the fiery grave! "No!" Ian screamed. "Help me Spirit! I can change! Please, just help me!" Ian saw that his cries for help would not help with anything. He felt himself edging closer to the fire as the wind's pull grew stronger. Finally, he had to sacrifice his own undoing to love something other than his own greed.

"Okay, okay! I'll do it!" Ian cried out tearfully. "I will honor Christmas in my soul, and keep it that way forever! I will remember what the past has taught me, I will live in the present, and live toward the future! All three spirits will strive within me! I will not shut out the lessons that they have taught me! Please, tell me that I may erase that inscription on the stone!"

Suddenly, the root was slipping from Ian's grasp. Ian then found himself plummeting straight toward his doom. He was falling, falling…Ian then closed his eyes, and braced himself for the worst…


	6. Act 6: A Change of Heart

Act 6

Ian shut his eyes tight, waiting to brace for impact. But he didn't crash in anything. "Wait…Wha-?" he mumbled, half-asleep. Everything was absolutely still. He slowly opened his eyes…and found himself dangling upside down, his feet entangled by his bed curtains. It was already morning. He could hear the faint sound of carolers singing songs outside.

"Wha-? Where am I?" Ian said, getting up. "Wait—what day is it today? It's morning…but what day? How long was I out with the spirits? I don't know. I must be dreaming." He then pinched himself, jolting right up. "Aha! I'm alive!" he said joyfully. I'm still alive!" He then grasped the curtains. "They're still here! A little torn down, but I'll fix them later! They're here! I'm here! Woohoo!" Ian began skipping around merrily. "I have no idea what I'm doing! I feel light as a feather! I'm merry as a schoolboy! Happy as an angel!"

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Ian then opened the window and looked down at the street. He then found two little girls pulling a sled. "Hey! Hey, you two!" Ian called out. "What day is it today?" The little girls stared at him for a minute. "Come, let's go, Meimei," the older girl said as they prepared to run. "No, no, no! Don't go!" Ian exclaimed. "What day is it today?" "Wait, Miwa!" the little girl, Meimei said as Miwa paused. She turned up to find Ian. "What day it is today?" Miwa asked. Ian laughed. "Ha, ha! Yes! What day is it today?" he asked. "Today?" Miwa asked. "It's Christmas Day!" "Are you sure?" Ian asked. "I'd say yes," Miwa said.

"Christmas Day?" Ian asked. "Then that means…" He pulled his head back inside. "That means…the spirits actually did it. They did it all in one night! Of course! They can do anything they want! Of course they can!" Ian then popped his head out the window again to see the girls. "Hello!" Ian called out. "Hello!" the two girls replied.

"Hey!" Ian called to Miwa. "Do you happen to know the poulterer's in the next street, but the one at the corner?" "I think so," Miwa said. "Wonderful girl!" Ian said. "Do you know if they've sold the prize turkey hanging up there?" "The one as big as my sister Meimei?" Miwa asked. "What a delightful girl!" Ian said. "Yes, my girl! The one as big as your little sister!" "It's hanging there now!" Miwa said.

"It is? Well then, you two must go and buy it! Yes, go and buy it now!" Ian told the girls. Miwa felt nervous. "Police!" she cried out. "Oh no, no!" Ian said, calming her. "I really do mean it! Go and buy it, and tell them to bring it here, so I'll tell them where to deliver it. Come back with man and I'll give you two a shilling! Or come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you both half a crown!" The two girls then took off in a scurry.

Ian then went back inside to get dressed for the day. "I have an idea!" he told himself. "I'll send it to Tintin's home! He won't even know who sent it! I won't tell him! Haha! That turkey'll be twice the size of little Matthew! Oh…Matthew…he will live! In my heart, the kid will live! The spirits did it all in one night. The ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future will thrive within me!" After getting dressed, he popped out of the window once again. "Merry Christmas to everybody!" he shouted. "And a Happy New Year to all the world!"

A few minutes later, Miwa and Meimei both arrived with a poulterer who carried a large turkey. "Sir! Here's the bird!" Miwa told Ian as he met them at the front gate. "Ah, there you are!" Ian said, greeting the poulterer. "I was right, this turkey is twice the size as Matthew! It's even twice the size as your little sister, Miwa! Merry Christmas, my fine fellow!" "A Merry Christmas to you too, sir," the poulterer said. "But it's impossible to carry it to Camden Town, sir," Ian told the poulterer. "You must have a cab!" "Camden Town, sir?" the poulterer asked. "Yes! This turkey is to be delivered immediately to the home of Tintin and Benton Cratchit and family, here in Camden Town," Ian said, writing down the directions. "Here, I have the directions."

Ian then gave the poulterer a bag of money. "And here's the money for the turkey!" "Thank you, sir," the poulterer said. "And the money for the delivery!" Ian said, giving the man another tip. "Thank you, sir," the man said again. "And a tip for you!" Ian said, leaving a tip. "Thank you, sir!" the man said, much happier now. Ian then turned to the girls. "And here's half a crown for you and your sister!" Ian said, giving Miwa and Meimei a few coins. "You both earned it!" "Thank you, sir!" Miwa exclaimed as she and Meimei ran off with the poulterer. "And a Merry Christmas to you!" Ian exclaimed. "Merry Christmas!" the three called out back as they disappeared.

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The town was filled with joyful singing as carolers from all around the village were singing Christmas carols. But most of all, Ian was now a changed man. Strolling down the streets of Brussels wearing a smile on his face, Ian bade everyone in town a merry Christmas. He smiled as some villagers wished him a merry Christmas as well.

While walking through the town the streets, Ian spotted the Thompsons taking a stroll through the street. Smiling, Ian eagerly walked up to the two men. "Hello, my dear sir," Ian told Thompson, taking his hands. "How do you do? I hope you have both done good yesterday. It was indeed a very good thing to do." "Mr. Ian?" Thompson asked.

"That's my name," Ian said. "I'm afraid it won't be very pleasant for you to hear. I would like to ask for your forgiveness. And yours too, Thomson!" "Precisely!" Thomson told Ian. "Now, will you have the goodness of…" Ian began whispering something in Thompson's ear. Thompson gasped in surprise.

"My word! Mr. Ian, you don't mean…?" Thompson asked. "Are you serious?" "If you please. Not a penny less. I assure you it'll include many great back payments," Ian said. "Would you do me that favor?" "Well, I—I don't know what to say!" Thompson said, surprised. "No need to say anything," Ian said. "Come and see me sometime. Will you come and see me, both of you?" "Of course we will!" Thompson and Thomson both said. "Well, I am much obliged! I thank you both. And Merry Christmas." The three then walked away together.

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Later that night, Ian walked up to his friend Veerasak's house. As he walked up to the front door, he reached for the knocker and pulled his hand back hesitantly. He felt nervous. But Ian breathed deeply and reached out for the knocker once again.

Inside, Veerasak was showing his wife the Christmas decorations he made himself while his friends Heather, Lawrence, and a few of their acquaintances were congregating in the foyer. "Oh Veer, it's so beautiful! But this is really too much!" Linda said. "You shouldn't have spent more than a penny!"

"But I love you, my dear," Veerasak told her. "My wife should have the best Christmas on this day!" "Oh Veer, I love you too…but not just for this!" Linda said. "I know, my love," Veerasak said, embracing her. "I know."

Suddenly, the two heard a knock on the door. "Now I wonder who that could be," Linda said. "I don't know," Veerasak said, heading to the door. "No one's expected at this hour." As he answered the door, Veerasak found himself greeted by Ian as he entered the house. "Um…hello, Veerasak," Ian said. "Ian?" Veerasak asked. "The same," Ian said. "I remember you gave me an invitation to come dine with you yesterday. If that is still in force, I would like to accept." "Well…I don't know what to say," Veerasak said. "Well, you could say 'bah-humbug'—an expression that I know I will never say again in my life," Ian said, "or you could say 'Come in'. What do you say?"

"Come in?" Veerasak asked. "Why, of course you can! You shall come in!" He then invited Ian inside. "Ian, I want to say you've made us both very happy! Oh, and have you met my wife Linda?" He then introduced Ian to Linda. "Linda, meet Ian," he told her.

"My dear," Ian said, taking Linda's hand, "it is very much clear to me now why Veerasak chose you among all women. You are indeed very beautiful." "Thank you, Ian," Linda said. "We're happy to have you here." Ian then turned to Veerasak. "And I just want to say I'm sorry for all those retorts about Christmas, and that poor reception I gave out yesterday," Ian told him. "Whenever I see you, I see my sister's face. I loved her, and she did with you." "I know, Ian," Veerasak said. "She loved you too, and wished until her dying day that we would be closer than ever." "And we will be. Always," Ian said as they, along with the others, sat down to Christmas dinner.

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On the next, Ian was back at the counting house, still happy from the day before. He was standing near Tintin's desk, staring at his pocket watch with a mischievous smile on his face. When he saw Tintin hurrying toward the front steps, he then placed the watch in his coat pocket and got his act together.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Tintin said, bursting through the door. Wearing a fake scowl, Ian said, "You're late, Cratchit. What do you mean to come here at this time of day?" "Sorry I'm late, sir," Tintin said, panting. "I am behind my time. "Step aside, sir, if you must," Ian said, guiding a now timid Tintin toward his desk. "But it was only once a year, sir," Tintin said. "I was rather making merry yesterday, with my brother and his family." "Now I'll tell you what, Tintin," Ian said, still acting out the part, "I will not stand for this behavior any longer. And therefore…therefore…" He then pulled out a large sack full of coins and dumped it in front of Tintin.

"And therefore," Ian said, "I…am about…to raise…your salary!" Tintin stood quiet for a moment. Then, Ian burst out laughing, prompting Tintin to laugh nervously in a forced laughter. "Merry Christmas, Tintin!" Ian said. "Haha! I am going to double your earnings, sir. A Merry Christmas to you!" He then embraced Tintin tightly. "And a merrier Christmas than I have given you for an entire year! And from now on, I will do everything to assist you and your family in any way possible," Ian told Tintin. "As for Matthew, he will walk again, I just know it! No need to thank me! We'll discuss more over a bowl of smoking bishop downtown, all right?" Ian then led Tintin out the door, with the money in hand. "Meet me there soon!" Ian told Tintin. "And merry Christmas!"

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 _Tintin could only watch form outside as he saw Ian prancing merrily in his office. A smile lit up on Tintin's face. "Ian was better in his own word. He did it all, and infinitely more," he said. "And to little Matthew, who got well, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city ever knew."_

 _Ian strolled through the street with Matthew, who had fully recovered and sat upon Ian's shoulder, paraded through the streets, with Tintin and the rest of his family following behind him. It was always said that Ian Scrooge himself knew how to keep Christmas, and keep it well, if any live man possessed that knowledge. It can be truly said for us, and all of us. And as little Matthew put it…_

 _Waving his hand high in the air, Matthew said, "God bless us, everyone! Christmas was alive in all, and every one of us._

The End!


End file.
